Little Writer Things
by Princess Pinky
Summary: Like all writers, River loves researching a good name.


**A/N:** I started to make a post about this tonight, then I realized it had to be a ficlet. Special thanks to riveralwaysknew for the accidental inspiration! A relevant piece of information for anyone who hasn't listened to the new Big Finish _Doom Coalition_ boxset, featuring River and the Eighth Doctor, is that River dresses up as a nun and runs around using the alias "Sister Cantica."

 _ **Little Writer Things**_

 _Click, click, click._

River covered a yawn. She didn't sleep as much as non-genetically manipulated human assassins, but the yearning for satin sheets and stiff pillows did get to her after a few days. She glanced at the list beside her mouse, written in her own hand. The latest addition read: _Cantica—part of an ancient Roman drama chanted or sung and accompanied by music; Canticles Bible, 'The Song of Songs.'_

"Tea?"

River swiveled in her chair, happily accepting the chamomile and lavender blend from her husband's outstretched hand. "Thank you, Sweetie."

The Doctor leaned over his wife's shoulder as she inhaled the steam from her cup. "BabyNames dot com?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. "Why are you on BabyNames d—" His eyes swelled like little tomatoes on a time lapse gardening video. "Rivah!" he yelped, looking and looking away from the sky blue camisole that hid her toned belly. "You're – you're…not. A-are you?"

River pursed her lips against her teacup; her eyes smiling at him over the rim.

"When did you find out?"

River dropped the three sugar cubes from her saucer into her teacup, one at a time.

"We're not prepared for this," the Doctor muttered.

River sipped.

"Time and space and a baby!" He tugged unconsciously at his bowtie.

River hummed.

The bowtie unraveled, but the Doctor didn't seem to notice. "Babies," he whispered. "They need stability." Beads of sweat knitted over his adorably stony forehead. "Rivah," he said. "Rivah, what are we going to do? Are you even listening to me? Rivah!"

River licked the last drop of tea from the edge of her cup and extended the empty dish to her husband. "I'm not."

"You're not. You're not," he rambled. "You're not what? Ready? Of course you're not ready! You've never been a parent before. I haven't been a parent in centuries! Give or take. Probably more, honestly. Honestly! Rivah! I can't believe you didn't tell me about this! Wait—did you say you're not? As in, not—"

"Pregnant."

"Pregnant or not pregnant?"

River grinned. "Not pregnant. Did you really think I wouldn't tell you if I was?"

The Doctor wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his tweed jacket. "Maybe? Timelines and all."

"Well I certainly wouldn't be so careless," she said, flipping her hand toward the computer monitor.

The Doctor arched his eyebrow. "But that begs the question: what _are_ you doing on BabyNames dot com if you're not looking for baby names?"

"Oh, but I am."

"Looking for baby names?" the Doctor puzzled.

"Looking for names." River swirled in her seat. "Aliases, to be exact."

"Aliases for what?"

"Anything! Who knows when a girl might be in need of an alias? It's always best to have a few tucked away in your back pocket. I got my last surname from an old baby book from my New York days. You'd be surprised what a wonderful resource baby name websites are." River shrugged at the creases in her husband's brow. "It's a writer thing."

"I'm sure it is. You know, I wrote a cookbook once."

River snorted. "Not exactly the same thing."

"I suppose not." The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "What _was_ your last surname?" He wheeled up a chair beside his wife.

"Zucker," she boasted.

"Zucker," the Doctor echoed. "As in sugar." He licked his forefinger and swiped it over the surface of River's tea saucer. Tiny flecks of sugar gleamed on the valleys of his fingertip.

River touched her finger to his wrist, relishing the pace of his pulse. She guided his hand to her lips and licked the sugar sparkles from his finger. "Very good, _Sweetie_."

"You have a little on your…" The Doctor drew in, kissing his wife with less restraint and, delightfully, more tongue than she was used to him giving in public.

"I can think of a few other places I 'have a little' too," River purred.

The Doctor pressed his mouth to the curve of her ear. "How many aliases do you have?"

River leaned forward to return the breathy gesture. "Spoilers."

The top button of the Doctor's shirt popped out with the magic of his wife's hands. He tangled his hand into her curls. "Take a break. Too much computer glare is bad for your eyes." River drew her hand down the front of his body. Somewhere past his waist the Doctor squeaked.

River took each end of his tie in her hands and led her husband towards their bedroom, backwards. As ever.

The forgotten computer hummed as it waited River's return. One name filled the screen.

 _Malone_

 _Meaning: Devoted to St. John._


End file.
